


Close your eyes

by ColebaltBlue



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColebaltBlue/pseuds/ColebaltBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for come_at_once, the 24 hour porn prompt challenge using the prompt "close your eyes".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, mistyzeo, for the quick beta, such as it was.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, eyes bright and broken as he slipped into my bed. "Close your eyes, John, and pretend I'm someone else. But give me this, please just give me this even if it is only for tonight." His hands clutched at me, fisting in my night shirt and he shook.

I had known for a long time that he wanted this, that he wanted me like this. You don't live with a man, even a man as enigmatic as Sherlock Holmes, for years and not know. I had always thought he would never ask, trusted that he would never ask, taken comfort in the fact that I'd never have to convince myself to tell him no. Because I wasn't sure I could.

_Close your eyes_. Could it really be that easy? I thought to myself. His hands were delicate and fine-boned, his body slim and lithe, and a mouth was a mouth. 

"John," he breathed into my neck. When he whispered his voice could have been anyone's. "John, close your eyes."

I did, and tipped my chin up so that if I opened them all I would see was the dark shadowed wall.

He was careful, oh so careful, and gentle. I closed my eyes and imagined dark hair, ivory skin, and a thin body softened to feminine angles. He pulled my night shirt to the side and bit gently at my shoulder, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. I swallowed and my breath caught.

He could be anyone, I told myself as thin hands pulled my nightshirt up and gentle fingers drifted over my stomach. He followed his fingers with the brush of lips and a hint of tongue. Thumbs pressed down at my hip bones as he nuzzled against my hardening cock. 

Close your eyes, I told myself, close your eyes and pretend it's anyone but him.

He sucked gently at the tip of my penis. Clever fingers stroked up my thighs and hot breath tickled at my hair. I choked back a whimper when he ducked his head to mouth at my testicles. I had always been a vocal lover and active lover, attentive and eager to reciprocate, but tonight I was closing my eyes and pretending so I pressed the heel of my hand to my teeth and clutched at the sheets instead of my partner.

He was good. Oh he was good. He was good in a way that spoke of caring and attentiveness, a careful watching for what made me sigh and writhe and tense. He was good in a way that spoke of a familiarity with what could make a man come undone. But he was just clumsy enough that I didn't feel as if I were being serviced.

I gasped, and whimpered, and sighed, and moaned. He lapped and sucked and stroked and kissed. I cried out and forgot to breathe as he wrested my orgasm from me. I was spent, body and soul. 

Close your eyes, John, keep them closed. Keep them closed and keep this, I told myself as I shook apart beneath him. He rested his head against my thigh and I could feel his trembling, the careful way he was holding himself against me, the forced stillness over something that clearly wanted to break free.

My hands moved to him and I pulled him to me. I clutched at his shoulders instead of the sheets. I rolled and pressed him beneath me, burying my face into his shoulder. I shook in fear as something inside me came undone. I couldn't hold him tight enough.

His fingers threaded through my hair. Tears clung to my lashes and fell onto his collarbone. 

"Holmes," I whispered, brokenly. I opened my eyes.


End file.
